Sunset Island
by Candlethorn
Summary: Expecting just another lonely night at his family's residence, the young Raphael has a most unexpected visitor. Also contains an element from Pullman's His Dark Materials. -Was this entertaining? Boring? Reviews greatly appreciated!


Raphael was a very lonely boy growing up. In his night cloths, he lay down on his bed in a room so fantastically decorated; one would find it fit for a king. There were bookshelves packed with books of history and alchemy, beautiful paintings adorning the walls, and a statue of a confident-looking knight. But material pleasures can only grant so much satisfaction to a child. All children long for friends, even this one. Would he be alone forever? Were academic achievements and political struggles the only things a young noble could aspire for?

Raphael found his restless thoughts depressing so, to rid his mind of the melancholy, he arose from bed and opened the large window on his wall to gaze at the city below and the great Moon above. He waited half an hour or so, just wishing for something to happen, but nothing ever did. He would return to his schooling tomorrow like every other night and continue to wonder what all the other children his age did. He wandered to his bed and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.

Not a couple hours later, Raphael opened his eyes to find a boy around his age clad in leaves and vines wandering about his room.

"Wow, such a pretty place!" The boy exclaimed.

"Look at all this artwork, and swords, and books of warriors, and oooooh what's that!"

He flew over to a statue of a knight to admire it.

"Excuse me?" Raphael said, startled awake, "Are you mad, peasant boy! Tell me why I shouldn't call the guards this instant to have you executed for trespassing!"

"Why," the boy replied smiling, "Because I could teach you to fly! But you sure do talk like a boring adult. You're not an adult now, are you?"

"No, but I'm obviously more mature than you. You talk like an unschooled dog from the slums!"

"What's a slum?"

Raphael put his face in his palm. I must be dreaming, he thought.

"How old are you?" Raphael asked.

The wild boy wasn't sure, but he wouldn't be bested in any way by this guy.

"12!" he said proudly.

"Aha! I'm 13!" Raphael replied, even more proudly.

"Wait, I just remembered, today's my birthday! I'm 13 too!"

"Fine," Raphael surrendered, "we're both 13. Now, didn't you say you'd teach me how to fly? If you do, I just might not have you executed."

"I can, but not here. "

To Raphael's mild terror, Peter then unsheathed a pocket knife. The blade was black as a shadow in moonlight and it had a strange dark aura.

"And just what do you plan to do with that!"

"This knife can open into different worlds." the wild boy said with a smile, "Watch, and be amazed at my talent!"

The wild visitor looked as if he was trying to cut some invisible piece of string in the air when suddenly Raphael heard the sound of tearing parchment. The sound was coming from the blade! And a strange orange light was coming from… the hole that boy tore.

The young Raphael looked at the boy with a speck of fear.

"I have read fables of warriors who used an evil power to carve the world. Is that blade the evil seed?"

The wild boy laughed, "Oh yes, it's just spooky evil! Thanks for the warning. I know now not to bury it, lest it turn into an evil tree!"

Raphael was never good at picking up sarcasm.

"So," the boy said, as he spread the dimensional fabric tear to a convenient length, "You coming or not?"

Raphael thought about his life so far. School. Fencing practice. Absent parents who only cared about gold. His current group of playmates consisted of his rapier and medication. What was there to lose? He walked to the strange visitor, and together they stepped through the orange light.

Raphael found himself standing on dirt. But it wasn't just any kind of dirt. It was very, very fine and was lighter in color than any mud he had ever seen. He knelt down to inspect it.

"It's sand, silly!" chuckled Peter, "Haven't you ever seen sand before?"

Before Raphael could respond, he caught sight of the ocean right in front of him. Such a great expanse of water, he thought, he must be looking at the edge of the Earth! The orange light was coming from the sunset. Larger rock formations loomed in the distance in the strange expanse of water. The sky was turning pink and red, colors he had never seen so vividly in his part of the world.

"I like to call this place, Sunset Island." Peter said, "It's always evening here. Wendy would have loved this place…"

"Just what is your name and what country are you from?" Raphael asked, ignoring the remark. Small talk was apparently an alien concept to him.

"My name is Peter! I think I came from England, but I've lived mostly in Neve-"

Peter suddenly stopped and stared blankly into the distance.

"England." he finished, "That's where I was born."

"England, you say?" Raphael asked, intrigued, "Then just how do we understand each other? You do realize that we are in northern France?"

"Oh, it's the starstuff," Peter replied nonchalantly, "Long story. It has a lot of strange effects. I guess it just let us share the same language or something. Anyway, you sure do ask a lot of questions! Here," Peter said as he removed a vial from one of his leaf-pockets.

The vial held a glowing yellow substance.

"I don't have too much of it," Peter said, "but take just a pinch of it, and we'll be off! It should last for a few hours."

Raphael took the small glass vial and held it in his hands carefully. As soon as he grasped the vial, he felt a warmth coursing through his mind, body, and bones and he thought he could hear the chimes of bells in the distance. Remarkable, he thought. Of his family's entire collection of the latest advancements in science, he had never read of such a substance and was amazed.

"I do hope I won't regret this." Raphael said, and reluctantly took a pinch of the substance. It quickly dissolved in his fist.

"You've got it!" Peter exclaimed happily, as Raphael rose from the ground.

Peter spent about half an hour teaching Raphael how to fly. What hand gestures and body positions to use to achieve the right angle, speed, etc.

Peter's words held true; the sun never seemed to go down on the island.

Before long, Raphael was an expert at flying.

"Let's go over to that rock arc over there!" Peter suggested.

Raphael followed. The flight seemed like it would take a couple of minutes, so Raphael thought he might start a conversation again. It was very rare that he had a chance to speak with someone his own age, particularly while airborne.

"This is marvelous , Peter." Raphael said, almost grinning, "You mean to tell me that you can become as light as the birds for hours at a time with just a mere pinch of the substance?"

"Yep!" Peter liked to reply concisely.

"Is this how you spend your time? Just floating around this island?"

"I used to have friends," Peter replied, suddenly morose, "but they grew up. They grew too much. I don't think they can grow anymore now."

"That doesn't make much sense," Raphael replied, "but then again, neither does flying with a peasant in a world I found in my bedroom."

They finally came upon the rock formation and sat on a flat surface, watching the strange sunset. There were small trees around the rocks, but their leaves were violet had a bizarre shape. Raphael also noticed a strange orb in the sky, like the moon but far, far larger. An entire other world beyond this one…?

"Wait, I remember one girl," Peter said, breaking Raphael from his thoughts, "Molly. Or was it Wendy? Jane, maybe…?"

"Ah, so you have a servant girl, then?"

"Servant?" asked Peter, as if he'd never heard the word, "She's my best friend!"

Raphael scoffed, "What good is it to have a female companion? She must be a terrible nuisance!"

Peter stood up quickly.

"What did you call her?"

"Nothing, Peter," Raphael said meekly, feeling a sense of regret that was very much alien to him, "…I was merely speculat-"

"We're going to have to duel now, you know."

"A duel? You wish to fight to the death because I voiced an opinion?"

Peter suddenly flew from his spot to pick up a couple of long sticks that were floating in the water beneath them.

"Here ya go," Peter said, tossing Raphael a stick which, Raphael immediately noticed, was conveniently his favorite length for a rapier, "Yep, we're gonna have to fight it out! A knight must always defend the honor of his lady!"

Peter's demeanor was so playful, it made Raphael dreadfully confused. But why resist the opportunity to put his training to practical use?

They both readied themselves on the narrow rock formation

"Alright then," Peter spoke, intensely staring at his opponent, "En garde!"

Peter, like a playful child, was hardly efficient with his weapon, compared to Raphael. Raphael simply parried a couple of Peter's wild strokes before giving a final hard parry that broke Peter's stick in two and sent the pieces falling to the ocean.

"Touche!" Raphael exclaimed proudly, putting the end of his weapon against Peter's throat."

"Aw, man." Peter said morosely, "You got me! Beat me fair and square, you did."

Raphael had never had such a playful companion and was not sure how to respond.

"That was most entertaining, Peter," Raphael said, tossing his stick into the ocean, "but I should probably be returning home."

"Yes, we both should," Peter reluctantly agreed, "The boy who gave me the knife told me we shouldn't be in a different world for too long."

Such a confusing statement, Raphael thought, but he knew better than to ask questions to this visitor. This felt far too dream-like to be real, so he figured the answers would be pointless anyway.

Raphael and Peter flew back to the island with the torn portal. Along the way, Peter had to assist Raphael a few times in flight.

Both of them stepped into the bedroom. Peter sealed the portal like a simple zipper and opened the window.

"I must be off," said Peter, looking at the moon outside the bedroom window, "I've gotta get back to my own world. It's been fun hanging out!"

Before Raphael could respond, Peter had waved to him and dashed in flight out the window. Raphael watched the boy fly away until he disappeared, and then turned his gaze to the moon as he whispered words of gratitude.

He closed the window and lay back in his bed to continue his dream of his flight with the strange visitor.

The next day, Raphael's maid was perplexed to find leaves and sand on his room's floor.

THE END


End file.
